Page 86 of Lovingly Restored

“Ashlyn, are you there?”

I take another ragged breath. “Yes. I’m here.”

I’m here, and you’re there.

“I’m at the hospital.”

All traces of warmth leave me.

Is she already gone?

I don’t have it in me to ask.

“Listen, Ashlyn. A quick visit is all I’m–”

“I can’t, Isaac. I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

Does he want me there to sit with him while she goes? I’m not sure I can be that person for him.

Those last sweet memories of Mrs. Lauri are the ones I want to cling to. That’s how I’ll remember her. And it’s easier to keep the angry version of Isaac in my mind. If I go to the hospital, how can I hate him when I’m in his powerful arms while he mourns?

“She’s only been here for a day and she’s asking for you, Ashlyn. She wants you.”

Shit.I’m screwed. I’ll never punish Mrs. Lauri for the sins of her grandson.

I sigh, defeated. “I’m coming.”

He lets out a long breath. “Thank you.”

When I arrive, Mrs. Lauri is sleeping, and Isaac is nowhere to be seen. I watch her rest, longing for my own bed. Barely any time passed between when I drifted off and when I woke abruptly to Isaac’s call. My eyes burn with exhaustion. At least he had the foresight to know I wouldn’t want to sit in this cramped room with him. He takes up too much space, physically and otherwise. It’s pneumonia, and her prognosis isn’t good. She’s close. Anyone can see that. Kernels of guilt for having left her nudge at me. I should have been the nurse to bring her in. Why couldn’t I have sucked it up?

You were protecting yourself.

I laugh coldly. “Protecting myself from what? Love?”

I draw her chilled hand to my mouth and blow warm air across her knuckles. Her nails are bare, and I remember the last time I did her manicure. There’s a subtle pressure around my fingers. Did she squeeze my hand?

“Hello, sweetheart.” Her voice is weak, her eyes open only a sliver.

I didn’t know how badly I needed to hear her voice again until this moment. How could I have even considered not coming to her?

“Hi. Hi, Mummo. I’m sorry I left you,” I say, sniffling while I cling to her hand.

Her breaths are shallow. When I offer her a sip of water, she blocks the straw.

“I’m the one who owes you an apology for the things my grandson said to you.”

My stomach clenches. She heard us? I’m mortified.

“Don’t you worry. I gave him–” She coughs, “Gave him a good tongue lashing.”

My laugh is watery, nose running. The thought of that big man being dressed down by his diminutive grandma is comic relief I sorely need. I hope she really let him have it.

“He wasn’t going to live with me after that.” She shakes her head. “No, ma’am.”

My mouth falls open. “You kicked him out?”

I can’t believe it even when she nods.

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